Harry Potter and the School for Wizards
by Gawaine
Summary: Harry's out of school and Voldemort is dead, but he's still an angry, angst-filled, brooding teenager. Can Hogwart's survive his attempts as a teacher, or will he fall at the hands of a first-year student? COMPLETE
1. Chapter One

**Harry Potter and the School for Wizards** Summary: Harry is returning to Hogwart's, this time as a Professor. Will he outlast the previous Dark Arts Professors, or will he meet his end? Suspense and angst, with very little realized fluff. Spoilers: All five canon books.   
**Chapter One**   


This summer was a unique experience for Harry Potter. Ever since he had started at Hogwarts, he had hated summers. Summer meant seeing more of his family - his blood relatives, who would readily have disowned him if they could manage it. Summer sometimes meant spending time at the Burrow, but that was almost more torture than pleasure, since it was never soon enough or long enough. And after his sixth year had ended, he couldn't bear ever going to the Burrow again.

Summers had been marked with loss for several years now. First Cedric, then Sirius, then Hagrid, and now Ron, had each died just before summer started, each of them killed by Voldemort directly or indirectly. But this year, instead of dreading new tricks by the late Lord Voldemort or the Ministry of Magic, Harry was adapting to peace.

Too much at peace, in fact. He didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do - no one shouting at him to work on his summer homework, no flowerbeds in need of mending. His summer residence on the outskirts of Hogsmeade didn't need much tending, and he didn't have to worry about work for several months yet.

He was spending most of his time inside his flat reading. He imagined that Hermione would be surprised to see him now - willingly doing research. But Hermione wasn't likely to see him any time soon. Most of Harry's seventh year had been spent brooding or getting into trouble, but he hadn't included Hermione in either. He didn't even know where she was spending her summer, or what she was doing after Hogwarts. He had seen her briefly at a Ministry party in late June, where he'd insisted on her being recognized for her efforts against Voldemort, but she hadn't said a word to him.

Other than Hermione, he wondered if he really had any friends. The other people who were important to him, the Weasleys, had felt like his family. After Ron's death, though, Harry hadn't had the heart to respond to their letters. And then, eventually, they just drifted off into silence. He wondered if they hated him - it had been his fault that Ron died, just as each of the other deaths had been his fault. They had never said so, but they didn't need to.

Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts, trying to force himself back into his reading. These books were all wrong. People who had survived Voldemort's first reign wrote most of them, but none of them were by anyone he'd heard of - and, as he knew everyone surviving in the Order of the Phoenix, he knew that meant that the real experts wrote none of them. As much as useful knowledge was contained in the books, he couldn't see how anyone thought they were enough to train people to defend against ultimate evil.

The book he had in front of him was a case in point. It claimed to be a detailed analysis of curses, and to contain all the information that anyone would ever need on the topic. Harry had met the author once - Paul something or other, from America - and while he'd been struck by how nice a man Paul was, he couldn't imagine any student taking anything from his course that would help against a Death Eater, unless that Death Eater was trying to deprive a target of sleep.

Harry wasn't sure what he was looking for, or even why he was really looking. After all, with Voldemort dead, and the prophecy fulfilled, Defense Against the Dark Arts was looking like it might go the way of Lockhart's memory. Aside from defending against Cornish Pixies and the occasional Lethifold, the average English wizard probably wouldn't have much to worry about in his lifetime.

He looked up at the Muggle clock - it was almost midnight, on July 30th. The wizarding clock next to it, a gift from Headmaster Dumbledore, showed him as "Wallowing in Angst", a position that Harry could have sworn was not there before he'd received the clock. It was accurate, though.

He sat there, watching the minute hand on the Muggle clock sweep towards midnight, and tears welled up in his eyes. If his summers had been brutal, his birthdays had usually been shining moments, which showed him who his true friends were. This year would probably be different, though, even from last year - while he never ate Hagrid's cooking, he would give anything for another crudely wrapped gift.

Midnight came, and Harry closed his book. He was done for the night. Then he heard a soft rapping on his door. He didn't expect anyone at this hour, and an owl would have come by the window. He drew his wand, reflexively, getting ready to curse whoever was there, and he grimaced as he finally understood the way that survivors of previous wars had acted, skittish at any interruption.

Harry walked to the door, and looked cautiously out the small peephole. He saw no one, but the lights on the street were out. He started to get an ache in the pit of his stomach. Maybe DADA wasn't dead as a career field after all.

He cautiously unlocked the door, and started to turn the handle. As the latch clicked off, he felt something pushing on the door, and froze. Whoever it was, the pressure wasn't too hard. He still didn't see anything out the peephole, though.

He decided to go ahead and risk opening the door. The worst that would happen was that Albus would have to replace him - and that wasn't impossible anymore. He jumped back, flourishing his wand, ready for anything.

The door swiftly swung open, and he was surprised to see that there was no one pushing on it. There was, however, a large bundle, wrapped in garish purple wrapping paper with a big red bow, and a large cardboard sign on which someone had painted "Happy Birthday". The bundle was over five feet tall, and had been left leaning against the door. It fell to the ground with a wet thud, and Harry noticed that it hadn't been wrapped at the top and bottom. From the bottom, he could see a pair of women's shoes.

From the top of the bundle, now lying on his floor, he saw something immeasurably worse - a mop of bushy brown hair.

Harry quickly pushed the bundle out of the way of the door, and slammed it shut, not even bothering with the latch. He tore at the paper, and his fears were realized - Hermione Granger was inside. He felt for a pulse, but there was nothing - but something struck him as odd about her. He remembered their second year, and hoped.

He picked her up, noticing that she didn't give to his touch. Even her clothes seemed totally rigid, which he took as a good sign. He somehow made it to the fireplace, started a fire, and threw in a handful of Floo Powder without dropping her.

"Hogwart's School," he annunciated clearly, and whooshed away in a flash of green smoke.

Harry sat by Hermione's side, holding her hand. She hadn't woken yet, but Poppy assured him that she would soon. He wasn't going to leave her side until that happened. He didn't know why someone had let her on his doorstop, but he knew he was responsible.

There was an intake of breath, and she blinked her eyes, focusing on him. "Harry?"

"'Mione, are you all right?"

"I hurt...all...over."

"You'll be all right, though, 'Mione. I know you will."

"Thanks, Harry, it means a lot that you're here." Harry blushed, and then realized he was still holding her hand. He was afraid to draw attention to it.

"No problem, 'Mione. Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember the lights going off, and then I heard a curse." She hesitated, and Harry squeezed her hand. "It was Cruciatus. They kept doing it, again and again." He started to let go of her hand, but she squeezed back.

"They kept shouting at me. I'm not sure what they were saying, I just remember them saying your name, and Harry's, and Ron's." Her voice was getting wavery.

There was a stern voice behind Harry. "Are you upsetting my patient, Mr. Potter?"

"No!" Hermione said with as much force as she could muster.

"Well, it's good to see you awake. Perhaps now Harry will get some food and some sleep himself."

Harry felt he was past the need for either one. His stomach was upset, and he'd been up long enough that he couldn't see the point in lying down. He didn't really need to sleep. Was Poppy still talking? His eyes seemed to have closed, but he could open them again...

When his eyes opened, it was dark, with just a small candle lighting the room. He was in a bed in the Hospital Ward. He could hear the soft sounds of Hermione sleeping nearby, and he decided that if she was able to sleep, perhaps he could get just a little more himself.

When he woke again, it was daytime, and they had reversed roles. Hermione, looking much better, was sitting on a chair next to his bed, holding his hand. She smiled when he opened his eyes. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Hermione?"

She looked almost hurt, and started to pull her hand away, but he held on. She didn't resist, much. "I thought you might appreciate having someone here when you woke up. I know I did."

"You look much better," Harry looked at her. Her eyes were locked on his, making him feel a little uncomfortable, but he didn't want to look away. "How are you feeling?"

She hesitated. "Better. I can stand up and walk around, but there's still sort of an echo of the pain. It could have been much worse. I'm not sure why I was attacked, but it didn't accomplish anything."

"We can worry about the why later. I'm just glad you're OK." He started to stand up, and then realized he was wearing one of the Hospital Ward gowns, which wasn't really meant for an adult. They had been uncomfortable enough during his last year, but on his tall form, the gown was about as useful as a mini-skirt. He sat back down, pulling the blanket over him.

Hermione was silent, but blushing. Her eyes had traveled down to the rather inadequate hem of the gown before he covered back up, and Harry wondered if he was doomed to permanent embarrassment.

He searched his mind for something to say to change the subject. "Um, did you talk to Albus yet?"

"Yes, he was here earlier. He thought that they were trying to get some information out of me, or maybe hoping that they could get you to come and rescue me. Not that you'd do that anymore, of course." Her face had gone from tender and caring to bitter and closed off in no time at all. He stopped staring at her eyes, and just looked down at her hand.

"Of course I would have."

"Oh, really, Harry. Would you have? You haven't even returned my owls."

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me. It was my fault, after all."

"What was?"

"Ron! If it hadn't been for me, he would have lived."

"You can't say that Harry. If we hadn't fought Voldemort together, we'd all have been dead. If Ron hadn't been there, we couldn't have won, and if it hadn't been for you, he would have died much sooner." She didn't seem to have the same pain in her voice that Harry had when he talked about Ron, but that might have been just because she was almost shaking with anger. "Ron was one of my friends, one of my best friends, and he's gone now. He didn't choose to leave, he just chose to fight, and I can't blame anyone for what happened to him but Voldemort. What I can blame you for..." she stopped. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were starting to water.

Hermione hadn't taken her hand away yet. He was still holding on, and he started to tighten his grip. He didn't trust himself to say another word.

"You left me, Harry. I needed you, and you weren't there. You made me think that I was important, that you cared about me, that I was your best friend, and then you just let me go." She was trying to take her hand away now, but he was holding it too tight, almost tight enough to hurt.

"Hermione, I couldn't talk to you. Every time I saw you, I just thought about what I'd done to you. You are important. You're the smartest witch Hogwarts has ever seen, and you were my best friend."

"Every time I saw you, you'd just look away. You wouldn't talk to me. You wouldn't even tell me why."

"I couldn't see you without thinking of him."

"And I couldn't see you without remembering my first year - when you and Ron thought I wasn't worth being friends with. I thought, when you saved me, that maybe I was wrong, that I..."

"I never thought that." Harry was quiet, but his voice had almost an edge, and it cut through the line of Hermione's thoughts. "I don't know what Ron thought - I know he was even worse than me at saying the wrong thing. But I never thought you weren't worth knowing. I was scared of you, to tell you the truth. You always seemed to know everything, but it didn't stop you from being the nicest person I knew. Everyone else who knew about me, they either hated me or lifted me up because I was the Boy Who Lived. Even Ron was a little wonky about it sometimes. You weren't, though. I was afraid that if I knew you better, I'd find out I was wrong, that you didn't really like me, that you just thought I was something to study."

"I would never have thought that."

"I know that now. Now, I know that if I was wrong, it was because I didn't know how special you were. Back then, though, all I knew was that I was already finding a place that I belonged - a home, friends, things I was good at - and it just seemed too good to be true to have you be that nice of a person." He was on the verge of saying things that he wasn't sure he wanted to let out. "And you're still that nice of a person, Hermione. I didn't want you to get hurt." He winced - he could tell by her expression that those weren't the right words to say.

"Well I did, Harry. You hurt me every day since Ron died. And you know what the worst was? They took me from my home, they Cruciated me, they tortured me, they wrapped me up like a sack of groceries, and the worst was that you didn't come for me."

"I would have, Hermione. If I'd known you were hurt, I would have come. I didn't know." It occurred to him that this was perhaps not the best justification for his actions, since he would have known if he'd been spending as much time with her as he had before. "I'm sorry I pushed you away. If I'd known for a minute that you would have to go through this, I never would have let you go. I would have held on to you tight, I would have stayed with you every moment if I had to. Hermione, I'm not going to let this happen to you again."

An unexpected voice broke in, and Harry wondered how long Albus had been standing there. "Good."

They both looked up, to see the twinkling eyes of the Hogwarts headmaster. Yes, Harry reflected gloomily, he was doomed to perpetual embarrassment. He stopped hanging on to Hermione's hand, and she pulled it away.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Harry, because I need your help. I'm very much concerned for Miss Granger's safety, as I know you are. However, I cannot guarantee it here."

"What do you mean, Headmaster? Hogwarts is just about the safest place in the world, isn't it?" Hermione asked, her curiosity showing.

"Almost, Miss Granger, at least during the school year. However, this is not during the school year, and our grounds are not as secure as they might be at other times. This year, in particular, we are open to many that might not wish you well."

"Headmaster?" Harry's curiosity was showing, as well. He stood up, absent-mindedly pushing away the blanket.

"We have had a busy summer. Many of our students missed their NEWTS in the last few years, and the Ministry has decided to let them all retake them over the summer. As such, there are many graduated students here. In addition, the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch is being used for training the English National Team." In prior years, this announcement would have made Harry's eyes light up with fervor for the sport - now, though, it only made him think of everything he'd lost. "There are players here that I am not familiar with, as well as people from the Ministry and their families. The Press comes in and out all the time. While I think that you may have managed to reach a truce with Rita Skeeter, I am not sure that you are on equal terms with the others that you might meet, here. Finally, next weekend is one of our reunion weekends, when Hogwarts students from years gone by return. Only students from many years ago will be there - some of whom may have been contemporaries of those that wish you harm. I believe that Narcissa Malfoy will be there herself, although Lucius has expressed his regrets at being unable to attend." His eyes twinkled - Lucius regrets were probably based on the fact that he was ensconced in Azkaban, although he probably had not expressed them with great lucidity. The last time Harry had seen Lucius, he was singing show tunes and asking for a new tuxedo.

"So, you're saying that Hogwarts isn't safe enough," Harry said. "Then where is?"

"Harry, I'll be fine on my own." Her lower lip was puckered out, half pouting, in a way that tempted Harry's self-control.

"Miss Granger, I believe that there are few choices. We need to get you off of this campus by tomorrow. Remus is otherwise occupied, or I would suggest there. I could call Molly Weasley, if you would prefer that."

"NO," Hermione's response was swift. Harry wasn't sure why she was so adamant, but he was glad she wasn't jumping to be at the Weasley's. If she went there, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to visit her, and after their recent shouting match, he didn't want months to go by before they cleared the air again. "What are you suggesting?"

"I believe Harry has some room in his home in Hogsmeade. Whatever they are plotting probably includes him as well as you, based on your memories of their interrogation. Since I am well aware that I cannot make Mister Potter do anything he does not want to do, I would ask you if you could join him there. I am confident in your abilities to handle anything that could be thrown against you, together."

Hermione looked like she'd been pole-axed. "Headmaster, I don't think that's such a good idea. They got to me in London, why couldn't they find me in Hogsmeade? Besides, I don't think it's fair to Harry."

"I think that's for me to decide if it's fair," Harry said petulantly. "If Hermione doesn't want to be with me, I understand. But even if she doesn't, I'm not going to let anything happen to her." 

"Then I believe that it is settled," Albus said, smiling. "Unless Miss Granger has any more objections?"

She shook her head, looking down. Hermione wasn't known for talking back to professors, let alone the Headmaster.

"Very well. I will tell Madam Pomfrey to check on you and give you any further instructions you might need, and then you may go when you are ready. And Harry...you can get dressed whenever you are ready."

He looked down, and to his distress, saw that Hermione was looking down as well. Well, if embarrassment was the worst that he had to handle this summer, he could deal with that. He just wished that she'd stop giggling - that wasn't exactly the reaction he was hoping a beautiful woman would have to seeing him in a state of partial undress.

~.~.~

Hermione had settled into the bedroom of the small flat, and Harry had settled onto the couch. There had been some discussion about that, but Harry wasn't just being chivalrous - he wanted to ensure that anyone entering the place had to go through him first.

Hogsmeade was a fairly sleepy town outside of Hogwarts' weekends. Harry and Hermione were usually almost alone at the Three Broomsticks when they went there. They avoided Zonkos - they never knew if Fred or George would be there, and neither one of them felt like talking to the Weasleys.

Harry couldn't understand why Hermione would be avoiding them, and he finally asked one evening over dinner in their flat.

She looked mildly embarrassed, but after some prodding, she answered. "Well, Ron had sort of a...crush on me."

"Really?" Harry's look of pretended innocence didn't fool her for a second.

"Well, maybe it was obvious to everyone but me. I guess that's the way these things go. Anyway, we went out a few times, you probably knew about that."

Harry's mouth was open. "When?"

"Fifth year, after the Prefect's meetings. We never really broke up; we just stopped seeing each other. I started insisting on having other people along if we were going places, and he stopped asking."

Harry remembered how little time he'd spent with Ron and Hermione that year, and wondered just how much of that had been because they were together. It seemed ages ago. He wasn't sure which surprised him more - that they'd gotten together without his knowledge, or that they'd broken up without it being obvious.

She continued on. "Well, I guess he talked to Molly about it, and she was nice and all, but she kept trying to push us back together. I wasn't really that interested in Ron - he was nice, and it was nice to feel like someone thought I was worth being with, even if he wasn't the one I really hoped..." She trailed off.

"I know how that is," Harry acknowledged. "I didn't really know how to talk with Cho, and I didn't even like her that much. I still liked being with her, but it was the same way - I didn't really know her, and she didn't really know me, it was just good being with someone."

"The last time I saw Molly was at the funeral. She seemed almost mad at me that I wasn't as broken up as she was. She didn't blame me for anything, exactly, but she said she wished he hadn't died with so many regrets."

Ouch. "No wonder you aren't spending more time with the Weasleys. I didn't know. And, yes, it's my fault for not asking." He managed a weak smile.

"It sure is. But maybe it's my fault for not tracking you down, too. If I'd known all it took was for me to be wrapped up like a birthday present, I might have tried that sooner." She looked at Harry's widening eyes, and hurriedly uttered a correction. "I didn't mean that exactly like it sounded."

"I wasn't complaining, exactly." She closed her mouth, and he realized he'd scored, but he wasn't sure why. He continued, filling the silence. "Hermione, I just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed being here with you. I'm glad to see you again - I wish I hadn't been such an idiot in the first place."

"I've enjoyed it, too. And I wish you hadn't been such an idiot, too." Was it his imagination, or was there something in her eyes? He didn't know how to respond to that, wasn't sure what to say.

Instead, he suggested a game of Exploding Snap, and she agreed. As the summer wore on, he realized that he had to say something that he had to let her know how he felt about her. Maybe he could convince her to move to Hogwarts with him when the summer was up - he could probably convince Madame Pince to let her help with the library, or she could keep working on the House Elves. Or maybe she'd say that she didn't feel the same way, but at least he'd know. It was sad that Ron had died filled with so many regrets, but it was worse to think of living with them.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**   


Harry walked towards the Hogsmeade station, Hermione a step behind and beside him. They'd agreed to walk there together, but they hardly made a pair. Harry was too occupied thinking about the ghosts of the past to be good company to those with him in the present.

He remembered the first time he had been on the train, seven years before. He alternated between smiles and frowns as he walked, remembering meeting Ron and Hermoine there.

Now, Ron was gone, and Hermione would be riding back on the Express when it left for London. She had only told him last night that she'd be going. She said it sort of off-hand. _Pass the pepper, will you Harry? And would you be willing to walk me to the Station tomorrow? I'm going back to London._ He had been just about to tell her about how he felt, to ask her about the future. He wished he hadn't waited until the end of the summer to say anything.

He could have cried, then, or begged her to stay, but he hadn't. In years past, he remembered the tantrums he'd thrown over returning to the Dursleys, or when he'd pled to stay with the Weasleys. None of that had done any good, and he didn't have the energy anymore to fight. He'd hoped, briefly, that maybe she would have stayed with him a little longer; he had even resurrected old fantasies, and thought that perhaps she'd thought him more than a friend. But if she was going, he wouldn't ask her to stay. He knew that trying to appeal to her safety would be a waste of time - the last time he'd done that, he had nearly driven her out of Hogwarts trying to prove that she wasn't afraid.

He felt like he was mourning her friendship, though, along with Ron's life, as he walked towards the station. When he'd moved into his little cottage, he'd been the one leaving, and he'd always had the feeling that his friends were still out there, somewhere - he just couldn't talk to them anymore. Hermione leaving wasn't his choice, though - he felt like she was walking out of his life, even though she was just going to London.

Hermione walked up to the ticket counter, and walked back to him. The Express was just pulling into the station.

"Harry, I'll be leaving soon," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

"I know, Hermione. I...I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. I'll make sure to write, though."

"Please do." Harry hated how his voice sounded - trembling, not quite in control. She must think he hated her - but he couldn't tell her how much he wanted her to stay. If she was leaving...he couldn't ask her not to.

"And you make sure to write, too!" Hermione sounded cheerful, suddenly. He thought it sounded a bit forced, but that might have just been wishful thinking. "I'll want to hear everything that the professors are up to, and how the Quidditch team does."

"'Mione," he barely got her name out, but the whistle was blowing. Behind him, he heard an unfamiliar voice. "First years, over here."

"I have to go now, Harry. Good bye."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Good-bye, 'Mione. I..." _I love you_ "I'll miss you." She was just going to London - why was this so hard?

She turned and boarded the train. His eyes were misting. He couldn't stand here and watch, so he turned towards the carriages still filling up with students. He needed to get up to Hogwarts himself. He'd sent his things along with Dobby last night, so he felt strangely unencumbered, walking through a memory.

He saw that many of the carriages were already gone, but there was one at the back that looked empty. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now, so he gladly jumped into it, closing the door.

"Harry?"

The soft voice clued him in that he wasn't alone. It was close to the last voice he would have wanted to hear right now, though. "Hi, Ginny. Didn't see you there."

"Story of my life," she muttered, not quite under her breath. He blushed - perhaps she wasn't quite over him. She questioned him, more loudly, "What are you doing here?"

"Can't you guess? I'm the new Dark Arts teacher."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Ginny gushed, and Harry felt his heart lighten. "It will be so good to have a teacher who knows what he's talking about. I mean, how many others have ever done half what you have." Then, she changed the subject. "Harry...how have you been?"

He hadn't met her eyes yet, and still couldn't. "About as well as could be expected, I suppose. And you?"

"Nothing much to say, I guess. Percy's moved back home. Fred and George finally made up with Mom - they're both making her a grandmother, so she's forgiven them completely."

"Will she ever be able to forgive me? Will you?" Harry asked, studying his hands.

"Oh, Harry," she grabbed him, and held him, and he finally let out the sobs that he'd been holding in. He felt tired to his soul, too tired to even feel embarrassed at being held this way by Ron's younger sister.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and they heard the sound of someone's tongue clicking against their teeth, followed by a condescending voice that conveyed a virulent sneer. "Miss . . . Weasley, I believe. What on earth do you think you were doing?" It was, of course, Professor Severus Snape. Of course, because Harry couldn't have thought of someone he would have less liked to have seen. He finally looked up, choking back his tears, and looked briefly into Ginny's eyes, before she strode out of the carriage, and faced Snape.

Ginny's eyes had a fire that Harry hadn't seen before - but then, he hadn't actually looked at her eyes during the rest of the carriage ride. Even when she'd turned towards Snape, the fire somehow stayed with him. "I apologize Professor Snape, for your having to have witnessed this display. I was just comforting a friend who's lost almost everything. I assure you that neither of us were doing anything improper."

"I'll be the judge of that. Step out where I can see you, boy."

Harry slowly stepped out of the carriage, facing down at Snape. His eyes were red, but the tears were already starting to dry. "Hello, Professor Snape."

"Well, Potter, this is a surprise. Couldn't stay away?"

"Not really, Professor. Good to see you again."

Snape seemed unsettled - whether by Harry's appearance or his lack of venom, he wasn't sure. "Well, get on with you - we should be there to oversee the Sorting. And, Miss Weasley, ten points from Gryffindor for talking back."

Ginny grabbed Harry's upper arm, and tugged him towards the stairs. "I'm sorry, Harry - I hope I haven't made you late."

"No, Ginny, I'm sure I'll be fine. Any Ginny...thanks." They separated, and went towards the hall for the sorting.

* * *

The Sorting Hat had just started its song as they filtered in, Harry striding towards the head table. He tried to ignore the gasps from students who recognized him, and from Professor Trelawney, who was amazed that he was still alive.

There was a large crop of students this year, some of them older than usual. Many parents hadn't sent their students last year, especially those that weren't pureblood. In fact, last year's Slytherin crop had been three times as big as the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws combined. At least the Gryffindors had been numerous last year, if not as much so as the Slytherins. Students who were brave enough for that house weren't the sort to stay home and sweat out the war, if they could convince their parents to let them do otherwise.

It was no surprise that this year's students largely ended up in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, especially those that had been admitted at twelve instead of eleven. It was surprising how few the Hat placed in Slytherin. Harry wondered - _Is that because their families can't show their faces in public, or because there are more people asking the hat to go anywhere but Slytherin?_

The Hat was almost finished - it was already on the letter V. "Van Hoek, Falco"..."SLYTHERIN"

"Weston, Roland"...."GRYFFINDOR"

And the list was done. Harry had clapped politely for every name, but his applause was forced for the last few. The Van Hoek boy reminded him of another young student - a Slytherin who had left Hogwarts in disgrace, and would not be returning. One that had always had the same sour look on his face as Falco did right now, although he would always have insisted that he was the "right kind" of wizard. Valdemort was dead, but Harry had no illusion that there was an end to all Dark Wizards.

The Headmaster stood. "Before we eat, I have a few announcements to make. First, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students, unless escorted by a Hogwarts professor." Harry saw a twinkle in his direction. "Second, Mister Filch, our caretaker…" Argus Filch sneered towards the students " has asked me to mention that there will be no magic in the corridors between classes. He has also requested that all products manufactured by Weasley Wizard Wheezes be added to the already lengthy list of banned items." There was a loud booing from the Gryffindor table. "I have not agreed to this addition, but I will ask you to limit such items to members of your own house, in your own common rooms."

"There have been a few changes to the Hogwarts staff. First, Professor Trelawney has officially tendered her retirement, which I've accepted, at the end of this year. Firenze, who has been teaching the advanced classes in Divination, will then take over all classes in the subject. Please take advantage of this last year with the Professor." Only one more year to get better grades through creative writing, then.

"Second, in the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts..." a thunderous applause erupted from the students, drowning out the rest of the statement. While Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Gryffindors were the most enthusiastic, he was gratified to see that even most of the Slytherins were joining in. Only a few were expressing their disdain - somehow, Harry wasn't surprised that Falco was one of them.

The Headmaster waited calmly for the applause to die down. "Third, many students have been requesting a more exacting Muggle Studies course curriculum, with a special emphasis on practical interaction with Muggles. Former Hogwarts student Alicia Spinnet, who has spent the last two years living among Muggles, will be joining the staff. She will be conducting field trips among them throughout the year - those of you who are at least fifth year, and who would like to attend, please ensure that your guardians have returned the proper permissions forms."

There was some scattered applause at this announcement, and Harry felt bad for Alicia. Volunteering to lead field trips among the Muggles seemed much more demanding than teaching Dark Arts from a book. He tried to make up for the lack of applause by clapping louder himself, and whistling. Alicia smiled in his direction, but Snape scowled - he wasn't sure why, but felt that it was probably the only way that Snape knew to show that he noticed Harry.

"I have only a few other words to say before we eat. Bandersnatch, walrus, and traal." And, with that, the Headmaster sat, and started to dig into his food. Harry followed his example, while trying to maintain polite conversation with McGonagall and Vector on either side of him.

He had hoped that being back at Hogwarts would be just like being home again, but there were just too many ghosts. The only thing that had stayed constant was the one thing he could have done without - the eyes of many of the students were on him, glaring at the Boy Who Lived.

Harry didn't remember much more of that night. He excused himself as soon as he could, and stumbled up to his quarters, where he collapsed onto his bed.

When he'd left Hogwarts last year, he'd left home - but he'd always expected that it would be there for him. Now, he knew that it was truly gone. Home wasn't a place - it was where his heart was, with Ron and Hermoine. He'd never be home again.


	3. Chapter Three

**

Chapter Three

**

"How are things going, Mr. Potter?"

Minerva McGonagall's voice startled Harry. He hadn't expected anyone to find him in his perch on one of Hogwart's many perches, but if he had, he would have expected a student.

"As well as may be expected, I guess." His hair was wild, unkempt. He hadn't eaten well in days - not since Hermione left, at least.

"I hear that your first few days have been mostly uneventful." That was likely a tactful way of saying, _boring_. Harry had written out what he wanted to cover ahead of time, and had spent most of the class reading from his scrolls, not meeting people's eyes.

"You could say that."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall had some of the fire back in her voice, a note of exasperation that he had missed. "Will you please look at me when I speak to you."

He turned his face towards her, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. "When was the last time you ate a good meal, Mr. Potter?"

He felt like he was eleven years old again. "I'm not certain, Professor. I haven't been very hungry."

"Mr. Potter...Harry...we need to talk."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I know I've let you down."

"Harry, I am disappointed." He started to hang his head again. "Not in you, though. I'm disappointed in myself, for not having reached out to you before. I suppose I thought that you had other people to turn to...others that would have been there for you. I was so sure that Mrs. Weasley would have..."

"She would have," Harry said. "She tried to write me, after...after the end of year six. I couldn't write her back. She's not the only one - I've had loads of letters. None of them really helped though. I don't think I was ready to talk to anyone - and now I don't know what to say."

"Harry, no matter how you feel, you aren't alone. There are people all around you who care for you, who want to be there for you. I know there's not much we can do, but you need to give us a chance to listen."

Harry felt a stir of anger, but he wasn't sure why. He fought it down, though. He was doing that a lot lately - bottling up the anger inside. Instead, he just shook his head. "I can't, Professor. There's no one...I mean, everyone lost someone, and the only people who'd really understand about Ron, it just hurts too much to talk to."

"I understand that you saw Miss Granger this summer. How is she holding up?"

"She's doing well...or at least, she's always been better at putting a brave face on things than I have. She couldn't...couldn't stick around, though."

McGonagall sat down, and put her arm on his shoulder. "Harry, are you sure you're able to keep teaching? I think you have a lot that you could add to Hogwarts' students, but maybe it's too early to expect that from you."

Somehow, her understanding just fed the anger inside him - he couldn't strike out at her, though. If she was patronizing him, he deserved it - what kind of person could defeat the Dark Lord, and not do his all for his own students? "I'm sorry, Professor, that I haven't been at my best. I'll try to do better. If you'll excuse me." He grabbed his broomstick and leaped off the roof, leaving McGonagall alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Ginny Weasley could hardly believe the change in Harry. His first few classes had been as boring as Binns - reading straight from the book, asking for scrolls instead of practical demonstrations. There was a gleam in his eye now, though, and Ginny shivered with anticipation as he began the class. He held no book, no notes - just a wand.

"Today, class, I thought I'd start with something different."

"Finally," a Slytherin in the corner muttered, echoing the sentiments of the class. Ginny almost clapped - Harry looked alive again. A tear escaped her eyes - she'd been afraid that she'd lost him altogether. She'd never been part of the Trio, always on the outside, but they'd always been there, with Hermione and Harry as important to her as her brother. She'd mourned Ron, as much as she could, but she had been afraid that she would have to start mourning Harry, as well.

"Five points from Slytherin," Harry said, "and thank you for volunteering. Mr. Godfried. Up front, please."

There was a general mutter from the class, but he ignored it, as the Slytherin approached the front.

"Class, I'm sure that for many of you," and here, his eyes swept the Gryffindors, ignoring the Slytherins altogether, "the Dueling Charms covered in this section of the book are just a review. I think we need to supplement this with a practical review. I'd like each of you to take turns casting each of the eight charms in this section. And, so I can see all of you, we'll just have you cast them all on Mr. Godfried, instead of pairing off, as per normal. I'm sure, since he was so bored with the previous class, he'll be more than happy to help demonstrate. "

"Hardly, Professor!" Iago Godfried sputtered out. "There are some painful spells in there - you can't expect me..."

"Ten points from Slytherin. Another word, and it's fifty and a week's detention."

Iago stopped talking, and stood stoically. His face was a study of arrogance. Ginny was a little stunned. Taking stun and pain curses from each student in the class would be worse than being Snape's designated taste-tester.

Harry looked pleased with himself, as each of the students came to the front and cast their spells. Some he had repeat their spells. Most of the Gryffindors, who had learned these spells from their fellows in past years, got them right the first time - but that didn't stop some of them from casting a spell more than once. When it came time for Ginny to cast, though, she couldn't do it. Iago had already taken twelve back spasms and fifteen migraine curses, among others. He was barely standing, his eyes half-closed, hands just hanging at his sides. Harry had forbidden him to defend himself, so he wasn't even holding his wand.

She looked at Harry, and he looked impatient. "Well, Ginny? I know you can do these, but I'd like to have you demonstrate the proper form."

"Professor...I don't think I can do this."

"Are you alright, Ginny?"

"I just can't...can't hurt him."

"Miss Weasley," Harry looked angry - something that he'd been hiding below the surface was beginning to peak out. "You are holding up the class. Will you please cast your spells."

She mouthed at Iago, _I'm sorry_, and cast each of the spells in turn. She tried not to put too much behind them, but she still felt her stomach twist with each spell. When she was done, she slumped at her desk. Why was Harry doing this?

The Slytherins did almost as well as the Gryffindors. None of them complained, and a few even seemed to enjoy it.

When they were all done, Harry smiled. He still hadn't let Iago sit down. "Well, that's all we will do today. I think you all have a good grounding in the practical aspects, but we will be continuing with practical sessions once per week. We will also be performing a study on Dark Wizards. To begin with, I would like each of you to provide me with a report on how to identify a Dark Wizard, two rolls, by next Friday. Class is dismissed."

With his words, Iago collapsed, and most of the students walked around him, carefully ignoring him. Ginny, though, helped him up, and walked with him to Madame Pomfrey. She didn't see Harry glaring at her back, but didn't much care.

* * *

"There is no way that you can defend Potter this time, Professor McGonagall!" Snape spat out at her. He had entered the staff room livid at the behavior of the school's Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher.

"I have no intention of doing so, Severus," she said, acerbically. "I can't imagine what possessed _Professor_ Potter, but Miss Weasley was in tears over the incident."

He just sneered back at her. "Oh, that's too bad. I'm so sorry that Miss Weasley was so broken up at this. Tell me, will she be missing classes for the next week, as Iago Godfried will be doing?"

"No, she will not," McGonagall shot back, "but I'm sure that he won't be alone in the hospital wing. I understand that Miss Claire and Mister Milton had accidents in Potions today, and will be there with him."

"That's entirely different. It was their own carelessness that caused them to lose their ears, and I sent them to Madame Pomfrey with very little delay. Potter-"

The door slammed open, and Harry strode in. His face was still pinched from his near starvation diet, but he looked more alive than McGonagall had seen him before. He strode in, and stared at Professor Snape. "Yes, _Snape_? Did you have something to say to me?"

Professor Snape scowled at the young man in front of him. "Mr. Potter, I hope that you can explain yourself."

"Whatever do you mean, _Mr. Snape_?"

"I believe that Severus feels that your display this afternoon was a little excessive," McGonagall interjected.

"Really, Professor?" Harry looked full of false innocence. "I thought that such displays promoted character. At least, that's what I've heard in similar cases in the past." That had been Snape's defense the prior year, when a few Gryffindors had tasted all of the Slytherin poisons. Harry had spent a week in the Hospital Wing after that one, and Ron had never recovered his strength.

Snape was clearly ready to defend himself against the implied accusation, but the door slammed open again. Madam Pomfrey was there, white as a sheet. "Professors Snape and McGonagall, the Headmaster asked me to have you join him in his office."

"This isn't finished, Potter," Snape spat, on his way out.

"No, it's not," Harry answered to his back, before he, too, left the staff room.

McGonagall's comments hadn't helped him get over Ron, much less Hermione. He didn't feel at home again, and he certainly wasn't happy. He had a purpose now, though, and as long as he focused on his purpose, he could ignore the pain.

Tom Riddle had been a Slytherin, and he'd caused the mess that ruined Harry's life. Snape had weakened Ron and Harry last year - Draco almost killed Hermione in the Forest while they were recuperating. Nothing good had ever come out of Slytherin house, and it was unlikely that anything ever would, although it was very convenient for them to put all of the malcontents and evildoers in one place.

Very convenient indeed - because Harry wasn't going to rest until he'd made every single one of them pay.

"Professor Potter, could I speak with you?" Roland Weston's voice snapped Harry out of his reverie for a moment. The boy's face was still covered with boils from a misdirected curse in the afternoon's DADA class.

Harry had a brooding look on his face as he turned to look at the Gryffindor boy. "Yes? What is it?"

"Well, you see...I...I just needed to tell you..."

There was a shout from behind Roland, from one of the other first year Gryffindors. "Oy, Roland, come on, mate! You'll miss supper."

Roland looked torn.

Harry decided to encourage him to be with his friends - after all, there was nothing that the boy would have to say to his DADA teacher that wouldn't wait. "Go on, Roland - we can talk after the next class."

Roland nodded his thanks, and was off. Harry didn't think anything more about it, even when Roland seemed to avoid him at the next few class sessions.


	4. Chapter Four

**

Chapter Four

**

Ginny hadn't asked Harry's permission to take his Cloak this time, although he'd been happy enough to give it the other times she'd asked. She was sure that he wouldn't have agreed with her purpose. She had already overheard the password to the Headmaster's office, and was reluctantly on her way there.

She had passed most of the last few weeks in shock. The venom that Harry had shown towards the Slytherins was way out of character for him. Sure, he'd never had a good word for a Slytherin, and he'd occasionally picked a fight with Malfoy in the halls, but he'd never gone out of his way to harm them.

She went up the stairs, and hoped that he would be there - she found, though, that he wasn't alone.

"This has gone far enough, Albus!" McGonagall was almost shouting. She had gotten there at the same time as Snape, presumably for the same reason, although Snape was astonished at her venom.

"I agree," he said, nasal inflection making it sound like agreeing with McGonagall was the most unpleasant thing he had ever done. "I will admit to having pushed the limits with some of my character lessons in the past, but Mr. Potter's actions push far beyond those limits."

"Indeed," Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his normal twinkle curiously absent. "And what would you have me do?"

"I believe it's obvious, Professor, that Mr. Potter isn't ready to teach here, as it should have been obvious when I raised the same point this summer."

"And what would you have had him do, Severus," the headmaster admonished. "Would you have preferred him to have traded on his fame, going into government - or worse, playing Quidditch?"

"He would have been well suited for either of them - and in either case, he wouldn't have put my students in the Hospital Ward! Falco Von Hoek has had the curious honor of making a new Hogwarts record, only in school for nine days before his first overnight visit."

Harry, perhaps making up for not spending as much time with Pomfrey himself as he'd been accustomed to in the past, had kept her ward busy over the last month of schooling. There hadn't been a single night since his second week without at least one Slytherin in the Ward, often more than one.

The increased tensions were taking their toll on everyone, even Professor McGonagall. "Headmaster, I don't think that Harry is beyond redemption," she ignored Snape's snort, "but I think he needs a good talking to. Most of the students look up to him, and when he tortures children for merely being in his least favorite house, they imitate his actions."

Albus nodded, gravely. "That is a danger, although it will pass with time."

Snape was incredulous. "How, Headmaster? When all of my students are in the ward, and he finds someone else to dislike?" 

Albus paused, then responded. "No, Severus. It has been my experience that our students are smarter than they are given credit for. When they see a professor being arbitrary, awarding his favorites, punishing those he dislikes for past or imagined wrongs, then they quickly lose all respect for him." McGonagall thought he was twinkling at Snape, but wasn't sure. She was certainly suppressing a smirk at the thought. "I'm more concerned at the cost to Harry."

"That's rich, Headmaster, although I suppose that I should not be surprised that you would side with your favorite student."

"That's enough, Severus." Albus' eyes weren't twinkling - they were flashing, and something impatient lay behind them. "There are still aspects to the situation that have yet to be revealed, even to me, but it is clear that if Harry continues on the path that he has set, there will come to be a point where he ceases to be the champion that we needed him to be in the past. And that, Severus, would be a tragedy that you cannot begin to imagine. I will talk with Mr. Potter," he said with finality, "and I hope that it will do some good. In the meantime, there's still the other matter."

~.~.~

Harry was dreaming, he knew it, but it didn't help. In his dreams, he saw Ron and Draco fighting - they were arguing about something, but he couldn't hear most of the words. He came closer.

Draco was taunting Ron, daring him to do his worst. Ron was casting spell after spell at Draco, and he was laughing away. Harry felt suddenly very angry - Draco was all that was wrong with the Wizarding world, he was a symbol for every Slytherin, every Pureblood bigot. In the dream, Harry pulled back his wand, and his face flushed with hatred, he cast a spell that he had never successfully performed while awake. "Avada Kadavra!" he called. There was a flash of green light, and Draco fell dead.

There was silence in his dream, and then Ron started to laugh. Harry rushed over to make sure he was okay, and then watched, stunned, horrified, as his features melded and ran together, as did the features of the boy on the ground. After an agonizing minute, the boy on the ground no longer looked like Draco - he saw Ron lying on the ground, dead, silent. In Ron's place was Draco, alive, laughing, content. "You've done it, Potter. You've really done it. I could never have managed it without you." Draco kept laughing.

Harry sat bolt upright. His scar wasn't hurting, but his head pounded. He put on his glasses. He felt somehow dirty - like he'd done something terribly wrong - but he wasn't sure why, or how to make it better. He needed to talk to someone, but it couldn't be Albus or McGonagall - they'd just talk to him, like they always had, as a child. They might trust him, might even like him, but he didn't have a real relationship with them.

He had one thought, though, and he reached for the Marauder's Map - it was late, but he thought there was a good chance that the person he wanted to talk to wouldn't be asleep, if she took after the rest of her family. He hoped so, anyway. He felt guilty for thinking about her this way, but she was the closest she had to one of the old crew.

~.~.~

Ginny made her way back to her dormitory in shock - she would give the Cloak back tomorrow. Harry probably needed to hear some of what she'd overheard, but she didn't know what the new Harry would do about it.

As she reached the snoring Fat Lady, she heard a whispering behind her. "Psst. Ginny."

She turned, and saw Harry there, the Marauder's Map tucked into a pocket. If he had it handy, then she was caught - she reluctantly pulled off the cloak, and tossed it to him.

"Err, thanks," he said. "I wasn't actually going to talk to you about that, but I appreciate having it back."

"What did you want then, Harry?" She couldn't hide her relief that he wasn't asking her about the cloak.

"I wanted to talk to you, if I could. Could we maybe go somewhere?"

"How about the Gryffindor common room?"

"That would be great, Ginny. I haven't been there since...last year." He trailed off, and Ginny saw a glimpse of the old, broken-hearted Harry under the new Harry with the heart of stone. Her heart melted, although she wondered why she preferred an unhappy Harry to one that was untouched by his pain.

Ginny muttered the password to the Fat Lady, who didn't even seem to wake up as the portrait opened and closed, and Harry followed her in.

The common room was almost deserted. It was late, and few of the Gryffindors of this year had a habit of finding their way out of bounds. Harry and Ginny sat on opposing couches, neither of them quite looking each other in the eye.

"What did you want to talk about, Harry?"

"I just wondered..." he trailed off, losing his nerve, but Ginny waited patiently. Then he seemed to change direction. "I noticed on the Map that you were in Dumbledore's office. Are you alright?"

Ginny spoke quietly. "Yes, I'm fine Harry. I had something to talk with Dumbledore about, but I didn't get the chance. I...I'm not sure if I should be telling you this, you a teacher and all."

Harry looked at her oddly. "Ginny, it's me. Remember, the guy who helped you get through the wards Fred put on his socks two summers ago?"

Ginny gave a slight smile, but her mood still wasn't light. It seemed like every good memory was tinged with something sad. She remembered that Harry, all right, but he seemed so different from the serious, drawn man sitting in front of her.

"I remember, Harry. Please, don't be upset, but I was going to talk to Dumbledore about...things...and he was talking with Snape and Professor McGonagall. And I listened."

"I can't be mad about that, Ginny. I've been there more than a few times myself, and it saved our lives a few times, to."

"Well, you probably know all about this already - but did you know that they're searching students?"

Harry looked back at her, oddly. "You mean searching their trunks or something? What, did Fred and George get a shipment past Filch?"

"No, Harry, searching actual students. Apparently, there's something - I'm not sure quite what - but it's connected with the Influensus curse. They're looking for it on students. Madam Pomfrey has been trying to look at people as they've come into the ward."

"Well, I suppose I've helped there." Harry seemed cheerful at the thought, which turned Ginny's stomach. Did he actually enjoy what he was doing?

"Not really. Most of the other curses make whatever they're looking for hard to find - they can't check the Slytherins who come in there cursed from head to toe for it. And the ward is so full all the time that they can't check anyone else, either."

Harry looked like he'd swallowed something sour. "Well, I suppose I'll have to cut back for awhile - at least until they find whatever it is they're looking for. Did they say anything about it?"

"Well, Snape said that Influensus was something like Imperious, but not as strong, and it doesn't work well on adults. Its not one of the Unforgivables, but it's close. And apparently, you need to leave some sort of mark on the target, which is tied to the spell - they didn't say what it looked like, though."

"Hmm, did they say how they knew about the spell?"

"Apparently, one of the older students was also under the spell. He said that it was some sort of plot to help along the next Dark Wizard." Ginny wasn't sure if she should have revealed this part to Harry - he looked grim, his jaw set. The fire in his eyes looked different - more like another pair of eyes that Ginny still saw in her nightmares. She was trembling, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Well, those of us on the other side will have to keep an eye out then, won't we?" Ginny definitely felt sick, now. There was a look of hate in Harry's eyes that she'd never seen in him before, and she was sure that she'd lost him. And she hadn't even told him what else she'd heard - the feelings of McGonagall and Dumbledore about his actions, which mirrored her own; or the other parts of the influenced student's plans. Plans which, apparently, involved Harry.

~.~.~

Harry returned to his bed, revitalized by the discussion. While most people wouldn't have been energized by the thought of yet another threat to Hogwarts, Harry was not most people. He had been conditioned by years of school to believe that he was at his best in such circumstances, that only under threats of violence could he build friendships or feel successful.

He fell asleep quickly, but found himself on a familiar plane. Ahead of him, Draco was arguing again - this time, with Hermione.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

"Harry, could I speak with you for a few minutes?" Headmaster Dumbledore stood outside Harry's office. Harry waved him in, and offered him some Every Flavor Beans from his desk drawer. He kept two bowls of the stuff - one inside a drawer, that he was fairly sure of, and another on top of his desk, as a temptation for those here for detention.

"What can I do for you Headmaster?"

Albus looked uncomfortable. "I hope you understand, Harry, that I normally do not involve myself in the way that my teachers perform their duties."

Harry nodded his head. He was fairly sure of what Albus was going to ask of him.

"I have spoken many times in the past about the need for school unity. I know that it seemed more necessary after Valdemort's return than it may today, but I still believe that it's important."

Harry felt hurt that Dumbledore would feel the need to use such a transparent excuse. "Headmaster, I know why you're here."

"You do," Albus looked at him over his glasses, but didn't look truly surprised.

"Yes, and I must say, I'm sorry that you couldn't just come out and talk to me about it. I mean, I know Snape and McGonagall have been Professors here for a long time, but I'd rather not be left out of the discussions."

"I believe that both of them have attempted to discuss this with you, and they've found you less than receptive."

Now, Harry felt stupid. "I guess that's what they were trying to discuss, before. I guess our conversations never got to that point. I kept thinking I knew what they were going to say, so I didn't let them say it. I'm sorry, Headmaster, it won't happen again."

Albus nodded. "So you will consider your actions, then, more carefully?"

Harry emphatically agreed. "Of course, Professor. I don't want to let Hogwarts be hurt. I don't think I have the strength to handle another Valdemort."

"Nor do I, Harry, nor do I," Albus excused himself, and Harry saw a look of sad resignation on his face, but he wasn't sure what that was about.

Harry's classes mellowed out, to the surprise and gratitude of all. He was still rougher on Slytherins then on the other houses, but he generally confined his punishments to verbal abuse and house points. To those that had been spending the last few weeks under the agony of curses, this was a breath of freedom, and few complained about being singled out anymore. After all, losing five points paled in comparison with a detention cleaning out Skrewt cages.

Harry noticed that Madam Pomfrey had started requesting students to come for school physicals, and he hoped that she would find the culprits soon. In the meantime, he had started searching for details on Influensus, hoping that he'd be able to contribute something.

Gathering books together, he brought them to his office, and sent a note asking Ginny if she'd like to come by to help out.

Ginny showed up after her classes of the day. She looked haggard, and her books were stained with something green and slimy.

"Are you alright, Ginny?"

"I've been better. There was another caldron explosion in Potions, and Professor Snape had me clean it up, because I was at the next table and could have somehow prevented it."

"Snape. To think I once felt sorry for that bastard."

"Sorry, for him?"

Harry nodded. "Hard to believe, I know. But -- in school, he was sweet on my Mom. And my father...he treated him like dirt." Harry didn't talk about his parents much, and he didn't think he'd ever said anything this negative about them before, especially not to Ginny. He hadn't said much to anyone lately, though, and in his thirst for some kind of companionship, he was saying more than he meant to. "I saw it in Snape's Pensieve, once - the way he treated him, like he was something less than human. And it wasn't because he knew Snape, he'd never had a class with him, or had to clean up a caldron for him, he just didn't like the way he looked or sounded or something. When I saw that...I almost threw up."

"Did you talk to Snape about it?"

"No - but he caught me at his Pensieve, and he threw me out. That's when..." he'd already spilled enough secrets, might as well spill them all. "That's when I stopped taking Occulmancy lessons from him."

"Oh." Ginny's face was white - she knew what that had done, but he needed to say it anyway.

"That's why Sirius died - because I saw something in his Pensieve. You know what the worst thing is, Ginny?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't realize it then, but that day, I lost both my godfather, and my real father. I'd always built up this image of my father, as someone perfect, like a knight in shining armor. After I met your Dad, I guess I'd hoped that mine would be like him." Ginny's eyes shone, whether at the complement, or with sadness over the whole subject. "After the Pensieve, though, when I think of him, it's of him talking to Snape. I can't see him anymore - my father, I mean. I don't know which image of him to hold onto. I can't...I don't." The emotionless facade that Harry normally kept up started to crumble, and Ginny looked hopeful for a moment, but then it slid back into place.

Harry abruptly picked up a book, and gave it to Ginny. "Here - this looks like a good place to start looking at the curse details. Its on distinguishing marks left by Dark Magic - it should give us an idea of what to look for. I'll read up on the effects of the curse."

Ginny took the book, and nodded, beginning to read. Then she stopped, and looked back to him. "You know, Harry, it's possible that all of those images are right."

"How can they be, Ginny? How could someone be so judgmental, so evil to people who've never done anything to them, and also be so good, so accepting, and so just? That'd be like having your father and Snape be the same person - it can't happen."

Ginny was softly crying, now, but Harry didn't comment. She answered very softly, though. "It can happen, Harry. People...people hold too many possibilities inside themselves to be just one image forever. Even when he was doing...whatever he was doing to Snape...your father still had good inside him. You've talked before about seeing his image from the wand...about hearing him when you're near Dementors. If you want to know who your father was, think about the best in him, and be proud that it overcame the worst."

"Do you really think that such extremes can exist in one person?"

"I'm sure of it, Harry. I'm sure of it." Neither one of them said much to each other for the rest of the afternoon, except for a few words when one or the other would find information.

Ginny was the first to find what would distinguish someone under the curse - it was a small tattoo, that would be in the small of their back. The tattoo would disappear when the wielder was the target of a curse spell, though, or if they cast anything significant. While the tattoo was gone, they didn't even remember having been under the curse, and they couldn't be controlled by it.

Harry found something more interesting, at least to him, although Ginny didn't seem to attach as much significance to it. "Ginny, look at this. In order for someone to be subject to Influensus, they have to trust the person casting it on them. Its almost always a parent or guardian that casts the spell." He was sure that the subject had to be a Slytherin - they would have to have come from a family with magical parents, where the parents followed the Dark Lord. That sounded like most of the Slytherins he'd met, although admittedly he hadn't talked to many of them.

~.~.~

Harry walked to his first class of the day, with a spring in his step. His talk with Ginny last night, however brief, had brought back something he'd missed. She hadn't been one of the Trio, but she could have been.

He still missed Hermione every day, still wondered why she'd left to go back to London so precipitously, and why he hadn't heard from her. He'd sent a few owls, with truly awful letters that didn't say anything of any use, but she hadn't written him back yet. He would have been worried, but he figured that maybe she was just giving him a dose of his own medicine.

He heard arguing from a side passage, and stopped for a moment. He should probably leave this sort of thing to a prefect...but he saw that one of the two that was arguing was a Slytherin, and felt compelled to lend a hand on the other's side.

It was Falco Van Hoek, heatedly discussing something with Roland Weston. Falco's face was flushed, veins protruding from his young forehead. Roland looked frightened, and his face lit up with relief when he saw Harry.

"What's all this, then," Harry asked, staring down at Falco.

Falco suddenly calmed down, his face becoming quite pale in a matter of moments. "Nothing, Professor."

"Don't lie to a staff member. Five points from Slytherin. Be along, now."

Falco looked almost hurt, but he turned and ran away.

Roland's relief was evident. He reminded Harry of Ron in a way - lanky, a little awkward. His hair was auburn, not the bright red of a Weasley, but he had a similar goofy grin at the moment. It really brought Harry back.

"Thanks, Professor. I mean, it really wasn't important enough to need your attention, but thanks for helping, anyway."

"No problem, Mr. Weston. Go along to class now, and try not to wind up alone with a Slytherin - you never know what they'll do."

"Thanks, Professor," Roland spoke, then paused. "I'm supposed to see Madam Pomfrey this afternoon for an examination, but I was really hoping to make it to your talk on Cornish Pixies."

Harry figured Pomfrey was just going through all the students to make it look fair, but he couldn't picture Roland as a Muggle-hating Dark Wizard. He was a Gryffindor, after all. "All right, I'll send Poppy a note. Don't worry about it - and don't be late to class!"

In his class for the first years that afternoon, Slytherin lost a total of almost fifty points - he took ten off for Falco's sulking in the corner, and went from there. He had first thought of Falco as another Draco, but he'd started to notice some subtle differences. Falco, like Draco, had started strong, confidently expressing his opinions when given the opportunity. Over time, though, he'd started to speak less, and now he seemed to spend every class sulking in the back, giving as little feedback as possible. Maybe his work was doing some good - if people like Van Hoek would end up thinking before they spoke, not considering themselves Merlin's gift to wizardry anywhere, then maybe Slytherins could take a proper place in the world.

~.~.~

Harry was still thinking about the results of his class, a smirk on his face, as he entered the staff meeting. He wasn't the last to arrive - that was generally Sprout. They'd given up on Firenze attending, but Dumbledore didn't seem to mind.

He seemed agitated today, though, and once Sprout came in, he called the meeting immediately to order. "Thank you all for coming - I only wish it could be under different circumstances."

Harry looked at him questioningly, but McGonagall and Snape didn't look surprised. Of course, Albus still trusted his old crowd the best. Harry might have defeated Valdemort, he might be a professor at Hogwarts, but he would always be "Mr. Potter", a young man on the outside of grown-up business.

"Have all of you heard of the Orpheus curse," Dumbledore asked his staff.

Harry, like Sprout and Vector, shook his head. Snape didn't show any reaction, but McGonagall nodded.

"Its a terrible curse, which causes a great deal of pain to the recipient. It can even cause death, although immediate, competent, care reduces the chances of this occurring. Some of you may have noticed that Mister Dertrihs was missing from classes yesterday. He was a victim of the curse, and he's currently at death's doorway, even under Pomfrey's care. We can only hope that he will recover."

"He is not the only victim. Selena Soong, Dennis Creevey, and Thomas Teawiddy have also been affected. Mr. Creevey is the only one of these latter students still in the Hospital Ward, but the others still suffered great pains."

"We have known for some time that there was a danger at Hogwarts this year, and that the danger might involve the Orpheus curse. We thought that we knew who would be most subject to this curse, and we had taken some rather extreme steps to prevent it's harming them. We don't know who is responsible for this, but we will take steps immediately to safeguard the rest of the students. Effective immediately, all students will be escorted to and from classes by a professor, and all students should go around in groups of odd-numbers - at least three to a group."

"Why three, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

Snape looked down his nose at Harry. "I'm surprised that our new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has to ask. Headmaster, I'd also suggest that we consider closing off the Astronomy Tower." 

The Headmaster cut off Harry's retort. "You have often asked that, Professor Snape - although I can remember you thinking quite differently when you were a student! But, in this case, you may be right. Professor Flitwick, please see to it immediately following this meeting." Then he turned to Harry, "As to why you would not have heard of it before...the Orpheus curse was never used by Valdemort - it was not something that he could comprehend. There are few people who know of its power in this generation, which is something we should be thankful for, not regret. That's all I have for today, Professors - please pass this news along to your students. Harry, could I see you for a moment?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

Albus waited until everyone else had filtered out, and then fixed his gaze onto Harry. "I understand that you and Miss Weasley have been spending some time together recently."

Harry instantly felt guilty, although he wasn't sure why. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Some might get the wrong impression out of these meetings. From now on, I don't want you to meet with her without at least one other present, from another house. You are not to inform either of them of the Orpheus curse, or even to mention it by name. She is not subject to the curse right now, if my suspicions are correct, and as such, there is no point in worrying her."

"Yes, Headmaster." Harry hung his head, still not quite sure why he felt guilty.

"That will be all for now, Harry."

~.~.~

Harry's sleep that night was again interrupted by nightmares. He had the same one several times a night, now, although the faces kept changing. Draco was replaced by Lucius sometimes, and Ron was sometimes replaced by Hermione, other times Ginny.

He continued to meet with Ginny to discuss the Influensus curse, and he wasn't sure if he should bring up the Orpheus curse, despite the Headmaster's instruction. They had to meet with someone from another house present, so Ginny had asked Rahne Rawlins, who mostly sat in the corner with a book, pretending to be part of the furniture.

They didn't just talk about the curse; Harry found himself starting to open up to Ginny. He surprised himself at some of the things they talked about - topics like his feelings, how much he envied her family, and what was going on in the Muggle world. Ginny had been on one of Alicia's field trips, and from the sounds of things, the last few years had seen a few major changes from what Harry remembered.

Ginny had brought back some magazines with her, and they both flipped through them together, laughing at what Muggles had been up to lately. Harry found himself starting to heal, and even the anger that was at the core of his being started to relax.

There were no more attacks on students - whatever the reasons behind them, the Headmaster's restrictions seemed to have worked, but there was still a depressed feeling throughout the school. The Halloween Ball was cancelled, although there were threats of a Valentine's Ball to come. Harry dreaded it, for some reason, although he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because little good had ever come of Balls at Hogwarts. He was considering this, as Ginny started to ask him a question. She looked shy, not meeting his eyes.

"Harry," she started out hesitantly, and waited until he asked her to go on. "Have you...that is, do you...can teachers take an escort to the Valentine's Ball?"

"I suppose we could, Ginny. But I'm not sure who to ask. Maybe if Hermione was still around, I'd ask her to go, just as friends, I mean. But I haven't heard from her since I started the year. I was starting to get worried, but McGonagall said that she'd seen her a few times, and she was fine."

"Really," Ginny said, disappointment in her voice. She couldn't have expected him to ask her, could she? Harry knew he couldn't ask a student to the ball - even if she was close to his own age, he was sure there was a rule against it. What had she thought he'd say? She'd perked up when he started to talk, then looked down again - was she just as sad as he was that 'Mione wasn't there for them?

She hadn't said anything yet, so he just kept talking, almost babbling. "Its really too bad she couldn't be here - I mean, there are just too many things to look for."

"Like what, Harry? I think we've done pretty well together." The third person in the room put down her book, and started to stare, but Harry ignored her.

"I know, but there's things that I hadn't wanted to ask you to get involved with. I mean, you're great at research, but you've still got your other schoolwork to do." She almost looked mollified, but he continued. "For example, there's this Orpheus curse, it's supposed to be pretty tough, that someone's using."

Ginny stood up, her face ashen. "Orpheus?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I wasn't supposed to mention it to you, though."

"Why?"

"The Headmaster said that he knew we were talking, but I wasn't supposed to bring it up. He said you couldn't be affected anyway, so I shouldn't worry you." Ginny was still white as a sheet, and her fists were clenched.

There was a horrified expression on Rahne's face, and she jumped for Ginny. "Ginny, dear, I think I should get you back to your dormitory. Don't come on our account, Professor Potter, we'll be fine. I can't be hurt by that curse, either."

They rushed out, and Harry reflected on the oddness of it all. All he was sure of was that another Hogwart's Ball had claimed him as a victim.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

The Valentine's Ball was curiously set up. Apparently, Snape and Filch had been charged with the decorations - which Harry would have guessed in a minute. They were dark and depressing, black, with only hints of maroon. The theme was either unrequited love or tragic love stories, or both. Decorations showed the story of Romeo and Juliet, focusing on the death scene at the end, and of Arthur and Gwenhwyvar, with her running off with Lancelot, only to be discarded and join a convent. Unlike many of the other balls, there was no lower age restriction on this one - apparently, the teachers didn't want to have the students divided into too many places.

The Ball suited Harry's mood. He hadn't seen Ginny in weeks, and he felt once again abandoned by his friends. He had tried to discuss the situation with the Headmaster, but Albus just shook his head. "I was afraid it would come to that, Mr. Potter. I must remind you that, had you not brought up the Curse, she most likely would not have run off. I did warn you for a reason." So, he was 'Mr. Potter' again, and subject once again to a lecture from the Headmaster. Would he ever be an adult in Albus Dumbledore's eyes? Or his own?

So it was a withdrawn, pale, Harry Potter who reluctantly attended the Ball, mostly keeping to himself and staying near his assigned table, talking with a bunch of Gryffindor first years. He had seen Ginny, but she didn't seem to have a date - she was staying close to Rahne Rawlins. She met his eyes a few times, only to look away.

"Did you and Miss Weasley have a little falling out, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked from behind him, obviously noting the exchanged glances. At his words, most of the Gryffindors scattered. Roland Weston, though, stayed behind. He looked up at Snape.

"Why can't you just leave him alone?" the boy glared up at Snape. "He doesn't need to see any of your kind, here."

Snape's eyes started to bulge out, and Harry knew that there was impending bloodshed. And so, with regret..."10 points from Gryffindor, Mister Weston." Roland looked astounded, and turned away, stomping off.

Snape's anger turned to shock. "Why, Mr. Potter, I didn't think I would ever hear those words from you."

"You may never again, Snape, so you might as well cherish the memory."

"I will. I believe this one will have to go in my Pensieve, as otherwise no one will ever believe it."

Harry's glass broke in his hands, splattering pumpkin juice down his front.

"If you'll excuse me, Professor Snape, I believe I need to go change."

"Of course," Snape's toothy smile was one of victory, while Harry's haunted look was definitely one of retreat.

Harry stalked off towards his room, and he didn't notice if anyone watched him doing so, nor did he care. He had attended because Dumbledore required it of him - if he had possessed any choice in the matter, he would have remained in his quarters.

He quickly changed, leaving the orange-stained robes for the House Elves. He could have just spelled them clean himself, but this was too good an excuse to pass up. He took his time changing into different robes - every moment that he wasn't there was worth savoring.

He wasn't sure why the Ball hurt so much. Maybe it was because he'd never actually gone with someone he cared about. There had been some who were attractive, or who were moderately fun to be with, but the people he cared about were always with someone else.

Harry paced in front of the mantle. Pictures lined it, the legacy of Colin Creevey. He saw pictures of the trio, as well as Ginny, with their escorts at the previous balls. He had also left a few awards there - ones that seemed pretentious to have kept, but that he hadn't felt ready to discard. The small crystal globes reminded him of Trelawney, and also of the Hall of Mysteries, and he felt that had he discarded them, it would have been running away. The wand of Valdemort - that, he had considered incinerating, or breaking in two, or perhaps making a nice umbrella from it, but instead, he had just left it on the mantle to remind him that the crusade of his youth was over. His youth here at Hogwarts - reminiscing about that brought him back to what he'd avoided thinking about until now.

Did it mean something that Ginny didn't have a date? When she'd asked him if he had one...did she think that he would ask her, even though he was faculty? No one else treated him as a Professor - had she just forgotten? He knew that she had dated most of the other Gryffindor men over the years, since she'd given up on him in her fourth year, but she hadn't spent any time with anyone this year, that he knew about.

She had looked great down there tonight. It was almost shocking to him, almost as much of a shock as seeing Hermione back in their fourth year. But there were differences, too - Hermione had rejected him, while Ginny seemed to be back to fancying him.

He wasn't sure what to make of all this. And he wasn't sure he'd have the chance, either. There was a knock on the door, but when he got up to get it, he was suddenly bashed in the back of the head. "Pig?" Ginny's tiny owl, inherited from Ron, had hit him in the skull, and then dropped its payload. It wavered a little, and then headed off, not waiting for a treat. He numbly picked up the letter it had dropped, and started to open it, but another, more insistent knock reminded him why he'd been getting up in the first place.

He stuffed the letter into the wand pocket of his robes, and opened the door.

~.~.~

"What did you say to him?" Ginny asked, behind Professor Snape.

"I was merely trying to verify something."

"What did you say? Roland Weston came running past here looking furious. I think he's hiding behind the curtain over there. I haven't seen Harry run away like that before. Is something wrong?"

"Miss Weasley, there are forces at work that you cannot begin to understand."

"I know about the Orpheus Curse."

"I stand corrected, then, perhaps you do know something of the forces that are at work. We were of the opinion that...certain steps...would make it impossible for Harry to be harmed back the Curse. One professor was of the opinion that he could have been killed instantly by it, although I thought that was giving him far too much credit."

"And you, of course, would never do that." Ginny snarled back at him.

Snape seemed impressed by the challenge, rather than offended. "And pray tell, why would I? I've known him for years, and never seen a touch of that kind of humanity in him. He's just like his father, that insufferable slime, and he would probably consider that a compliment."

"No, he wouldn't," Ginny answered back, softly, with a sad sort of hatred replacing the venom. "And that's your fault."

"My fault? I don't believe I follow you, Miss Weasley."

"He told me about the Pensieve."

"Of course he did. He can't do something vile, something so disrespectful, without trumpeting it to the world! He's -"

"Not proud of it." She answered, and Snape stopped. "He told me that the day he touched your Pensieve, he killed both of his fathers - both his Godfather, because...well, you know...and his father."

Snape looked stricken, and sat down abruptly. "He said that?"

Ginny sat, as well, only belatedly looking around to make sure that none were watching.

"He did. He'd always had a picture of his father as someone to have as a role model, but not for what you said. The first he'd heard of his father was that he'd rejected Valdemort, and died to save his family. I think that's a perfectly good role model, don't you?"

Snape nodded, sweeping his hair back. "But James wasn't just..."

"No, he wasn't just a hero. He was also a man, who made some mistakes while he was in school. Some bad mistakes - and while I don't know if he regretted them, I know that Harry did. He used to talk about his parents all the time. Ron said that he just wanted to be normal, but he didn't mean that he wanted to be non-Magical. He meant that he wished he could have had a mother and father that were there for him. He spent his whole first year just wishing that he could see them, just once. After he saw your Pensieve, though, he never talked about his father again. Until he brought it up, back near the beginning of the year. He said he couldn't see his father any more. He knows what he looked like, but when he thinks of his father, he can't visualize a man who acted as badly as he did to you, and who was still a hero."

Snape looked down at his hands. "Are you quite finished?"

"Not quite. I care about Harry. I care about him very much...but I'm sure he doesn't care about me quite the same way. I've sent him a letter, just in case, though, so you don't have to worry about Orpheus. I think Harry's twice the man you are, but I think you both have something in common. Both of you are stubborn, judgmental, self-righteous gits, who can't get it through your head that someone with one vice can't also have a virtue. You hate him because he looks likes his father - he hates you because you hate him. Why can't both of you just give it a rest!" She had almost shouted out the last, and noticed that most of the students had moved well away during the diatribe. She had just yelled at a professor - and the one least likely to forgive her for her presumption. She suddenly slumped her shoulders. She spoke, almost under her breath. "Percy will never let me live this down - after all my crowing about doing better than him on the OWLs, I'll end up sleeping on Fred and George's floor."

"Was that an apology, Miss Weasley?" Snape asked.

"No," she stood her ground.

"Good", said a voice from nearby. She turned, and saw Albus right behind her. From Snape's expression, he hadn't heard, either. "Truth must never be apologized for, although you might consider using a bit more tact next time."

Snape, who had looked worn, now started to rise to the occasion. "Professor, you can't expect me to stand for this!"

"If it helps, Severus, consider the words to have come from me - and also consider that, should I have the opportunity, I will repeat the same speech to Harry on your behalf. Although, I think I might omit the part about him being twice the man you are - that seems to me to be a judgment better left to a witch."

Ginny turned beet red, then went further, into the color of the spectrum reserved for Weasley blushes.

"Miss Weasley, we may have some words at a later time on your means of expression, and your choice of location. But for now, I don't believe anything further is necessary. Please, enjoy the party. Severus, if you will come with me?"

Snape stood up, still looking unsettled, and walked with the Headmaster for a few steps, before he excused himself, heading towards the dungeons. Ginny had a feeling that it wasn't over, though - her NEWTs were only weeks away, and she figured that any hope she had had for one in Potions was gone.

"Ginny," came a voice from behind her. It was Roland Weston, peeking out from behind a curtain, his face glowing. "You were great!"

She walked over to him, and he stepped back, inviting her behind the curtain. "You heard?"

"No, I'm not that brave. I saw, though. You must like Professor Potter a lot."

Ginny nodded her head. "We're good friends."

"Just friends?" His voice sounded knowing, like a typical pre-teen boy teasing an older teenager about their relationship. She expected he'd break out into chanting momentarily, and blushed - then her blush deepened, as she realized that not answering his question was, in this case, worse than having answered it.

He nodded his head. "I thought so! After the way Snape asked him about you, earlier...I was really hoping."

"Roland, I'm not sure that's any business of yours."

"I'm afraid you're wrong." He pulled out his wand, quickly, and pointed it at her. "_Stupefy_! "

~.~.~

Harry was shocked, opening the door, to see a Slytherin there. Falco Van Hoek stood there, knocking anxiously.

"You shouldn't be out here alone, Mister Van Hoek. Five points from Slytherin."

"But, Professor, I saw Ginny..."

Harry was suddenly silent. "Yes?"

"I saw Ginny with Roland, and..."

"You bothered me for this?"

"...and, she looked like she was...I mean, he was using Mobilicorpus, moving her down one of the passages away from the Hall."

Harry wasn't sure what to think. His first impulse was to distrust anything that the slick first year from Slytherin said, but his second was to believe that just about any danger could be real. He started to run out, then thought better of it - he was about to run into danger, and although he didn't feel willing to confirm Albus' behavior by running to the Headmaster for help, he wasn't above having a little extra security before following this snake into somewhere perilous. He snatched a few items off the mantle, and shoved them into his pockets.

"Show me," he commanded, and he followed the boy, who showed him a secret password that Harry hadn't used. It didn't go to the kitchens or to Hogsmeade, so it wasn't high on his list of useful routes to use. Lighting his wand, Harry rushed into the passage, Falco running along side him.

The passage was musty and covered with webs, but the moist stone at least absorbed the sounds of their rapid footfalls. "They were going this way," Falco panted, as they came to a fork. "The other way goes to the Hall."

Harry grabbed his shoulder, and helped pull him along as they ran together, the eleven year old barely keeping up with the eighteen year-old professor.

Up ahead, there was an eerie orange light, which was almost blinding after the time in the hall. Harry ran into the room, and heard "Stupefy", before crashing to the ground. In the eye blink before the spell took effect, he'd seen enough of the room to show that rushing in had, perhaps, not been the best of ideas. There were two old wooden tables here, each sporting chains - Ginny lay on one of them, with the other empty.

~.~.~

"Enervate," Harry heard, and his eyes opened. Roland stood over him. The boy seemed nervous, but not as much so as Falco. The Slytherin boy was stirring a caldron, and seemed to be shivering.

"Nice wand, Potter," Roland held up the item in question, which he'd taken from Harry's hand after stunning him. "I expect this will make a nice trophy - my father will put it on his mantle, after I'm through with you."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Harry's left. "Ginny?" He asked, weekly.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ginny."

Roland seemed content to let them talk. Smirking, he walked over to a small caldron, and began to stir the contents. "I'll be with you both in a moment."

"Ginny, the Influensus..."

"I know, it must be one of them."

"Harry - this is very important - did you get my note?"

"In my pocket," he said, "but I didn't get a chance to read it. Ginny, I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you. I mean, I was a total prat." His pocket...Harry's hands were chained to the table near his waist, not above his shoulders, with another chain around his neck. He could just barely reach them.

"NO!" Ginny said. "You were right. I mean, you're a professor, and I'm really not..."

Roland pointed his wand at her, and she trailed off. "One more word, and I'll not bother with this curse - I'll just try my hand with some of the darker ones. I may not get them right the first time, but I'll be more than happy to practice." Harry took advantage of his attention shifting to slip his hand into the large pocket on his side. If he could just reach...

Ginny laughed. "You do that. It will take months, and by then, Dumbledore will have long since found us. Besides, you can't hurt Harry. It won't work."

"I think you're wrong, Miss Weasley. And now, I'm going to prove it to you." Roland gestured at Falco, who picked up the caldron, and started to walk towards the two prisoners. "I think we both know that this curse will do more than cause you both pain. I've talked with both of you - I know that neither of you can survive this."

There was a crash, as a small crystal globe fell from Harry's pocket to the ground, splintering. Roland looked down at it, and his hateful smirk grew larger. "Cute. You thought to save the life of your girlfriend with a knick-knack. I don't think I've seen anything as pathetic since Dennis Creevey went after Falco with a strawberry."

"I wasn't trying to use a knick-knack," Harry said, his own intense smile beginning to grow. "I was trying to use this." Harry's hand was out of his pocket now, another wand in hand. This one had a core of phoenix as much as his own, although the wood was black as the heart of the previous owner. 

Harry knew from Roland's comment that these two had performed the Orpheus curse on Dennis Creevey, and that they were about to perform it on the two of them. He also knew that one of them was probably under the Influensus curse, but he had no way of knowing which one. If he could stop the other one, then any charm would be enough to negate the Influensus. One of the two was charged with helping to develop the next great Dark Wizard. Which one was the helper - and which one the next Tom Riddle?

He remembered Roland trying to talk to him after class some months ago, and he knew - Roland might be a Gryffindor, but there was no way of knowing what his parents were. If he was under the Influensus, that class might have been his only time free of it - he could have been coming to tell Harry about the attacks, to ask for help, and Harry had missed the chance to hear him out.

Harry still didn't know what it was that made this curse special, but the professors had indicated that he wasn't in danger - although Roland had just said otherwise. He was willing to risk getting hurt by Roland and Falco, but he couldn't lose Ginny. He couldn't lose another friend.

The thought made his blood run cold, and there was an icy passion in the depths of his soul. He had been bottling up anger and resentment all year, and now some of it would be released. One of these children had made the decision to kill his friend, and that child would have to pay with his life. He was at that point in the chain of events where everything changes. If someone in Tom Riddle's youth had found him opening the Chamber of Secrets, had sent him to Azkaban for the Dementor's Kiss, then all the pain of the last fifty years could have been prevented. He could stop that, now.

He drew on his hatred, his fear, his frustration, and pointed the wand at Falco. "Avada Kedavra," he yelled. There was a flash of green light, and Harry felt suddenly very, very dirty, like he was swimming in the Thames at high summer. He heard a distant, tinny sound, which sounded something like thousands of voices, cheering him on. He also felt very, very, faint, as if he'd used up every ounce of magical power.

Falco's face held a look of terror. He swayed back and forth, before finally starting to tip forwards. The caldron dropped from his hands, and bounced off the floor. Its contents splattered, coating both Ginny and Harry with a fine mist, but leaving Roland alone - he had cast a shielding charm on himself as soon as Harry started his curse. Harry turned his wand towards Roland, and whispered, as he tried to cast something weak, using the little energy he felt he had left. "Rictusempra."

It didn't pass Roland's shield entirely. The boy gave a small chuckle, and bent over for a brief second, then straightened. He looked triumphant, he looked jubilant, and he didn't look at all like he'd just been freed from some sort of bondage. "Mister Potter. You chose wrong." Pointing his wand at Harry, he shouted. "Orpheus!" And Harry heard no more.


	7. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

It had seemed like forever. Harry had felt years of physical torture, his skin and sinew flayed from bone, and then replaced, time after time. The worst of it was that he saw the same thing happening to Ginny, and knew that it was his fault.

Harry felt somehow like he was where he was supposed to be. He heard a familiar, motherly voice talking to him from the distance. His eyes couldn't open all the way, because a blinding light made it almost impossible for him to see. Was he dead? Had Roland been right about the spell?

"I think he's awake," he heard a voice say, and realized that it was Madam Pomfrey. He expected to hear Ron and Hermione answer, before realizing that was impossible.

"Harry, are you back with us?" The calm, imperturbable voice of Albus Dumbledore washed over Harry like a wave of cool, clean air.

"Too. . .bright," Harry croaked out. There was the sound of shutters being closed and curtains drawn, and a cup was held up to his mouth. Harry eagerly swallowed every drop before asking for more, and draining another.

He blinked his eyes, and although they still hurt, he could see better now. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were there, faces drawn. Albus still had his customary twinkle, if a bit less of it. Harry saw that he had company. He wasn't surprised to see Ginny lying on a nearby bed, pale and almost lifeless, but was stunned to see that Falco, too, lay nearby. He should have been dead -- Harry had seen him fall, seen the green light fly at him.

Albus' eyes followed Harry's gaze. "Yes, Mister Van Hoek is still with us. We are not sure why, or if he will ever recover. It is possible that your attempt at a Killing Curse was inadequate. If only that were enough..."

Harry wasn't sure what Albus meant.

The Headmaster continued, "It is good to have you back, Harry. We almost believed that you would not return."

"How...long?"

"Don't try to talk yet," Pomfrey answered, but Albus put his hand on her arm.

"I need to talk with Mister Potter alone for a few moments. If you would, Poppy?"

She nodded, grimly. "I'll look in on Miss Weasley. Let me know if you need anything." She turned and walked away. Harry thought that was a bad sign - she hadn't given Albus a time limit.

"Harry, if you need to sleep longer...if you are not quite ready to face the world...then I would suggest that you fall back asleep. I cannot force you to do so without worsening your condition, but you might not be best off being awake at this time."

"How...long?"

Albus sighed. "You've been asleep for just over four months. The term is coming to an end. But, if you are not truly recovered, you should perhaps sleep still longer."

"Why?"

"Harry," Albus looked grim. "You used an Unforgivable Curse on a Hogwart's student - an eleven-year old child, Harry - whose only crime was in trusting his parents enough to let them put him under what he thought was a protection spell. Whether he died immediately or not is immaterial."

Harry was stunned. "Then Falco... he was under the Influensus curse? Is that why the Hat put him..."

"No, Harry. The Sorting Hat would not have sensed such a curse - after all, if it were that easy, we would just designate St. Mungo's as a house, and let the Hat sort out those that should not be admitted. Falco was put into Slytherin, as much as I can tell, because he had a hero. From the time he was a young child, he had worshipped a great wizard, a young man who did great things while still at Hogwarts. He had to hide them in his dormitory, but he had pictures of this wizard in his nightstand, copies of daily prophet articles about him, even a set of Quidditch cards that he had hand-made about his hero. The hat put him in Slytherin because of his ambition to do great things, Harry, not because he was evil. And, because his hero was someone that the Hat had always believed belonged in Slytherin, despite the young man's request to be elsewhere."

Harry felt miserable, and then even lower. He knew who Albus was talking about.

"How could he feel that way? Especially after having classes, here?"

"Harry, he didn't hate you, although he didn't understand why you wouldn't give him a chance."

Harry started to sob, quietly, to himself.

"Harry, I have gotten you a trial, although it has been quite difficult. Many people secretly wish that their heroes would topple, that they would prove themselves to be made out of the same clay that the rest of humanity. They show little mercy for those that do, however. There was a motion to have you Kissed before you awoke, but it was argued that even that was too merciful. After all, a successful Orpheus curse is incredibly painful. It was only within the last few weeks that I managed to convince the Ministry to grant you a trial, with the possibility of commuting your sentence to life imprisonment. That is as much as I can do for you with them, Harry, and it is not much. I'm afraid that England is no longer your grateful, adoring public. As soon as I've confirmed that you are awake, and fit for trial, I am to inform the Ministry, and they will arrive to bring you to Azkaban to await your trial. That is why I'm giving you this opportunity now, Harry. If this is just a waking dream, if you still need sleep, now is the time to have it."

Harry sensed that Albus was trying to tell him something, to give him an opportunity, and he decided to hold onto it - his instinct serving him, although no desire for life drove him.

"I think you're right, Professor. I'm not fully here, not truly awake. Before I fall back asleep, though...how is Ginny?"

"I'm afraid, Mister Potter, that she continues to suffer. Mister Weston was confined immediately after casting the spells on both of you - Aurors had located the Killing Curse, and were on their way even as he cast them."

"Why? I mean, why is she still asleep?"

"The Orpheus Curse, Harry. It is, in some ways, the inverse of the Killing Curse. Love is not the defense against it, at least not under most circumstances. It only works, in fact, on two subjects who care about one another, where both of them truly believe in that care. It does not have to be romantic love, but it is strongest in those cases - that is, in fact, the only time that it may be fatal. Ginny must both truly love you, and believe that you care for her - although she does not believe it to sufficient depths to have died as of yet."

"You knew. You knew this could happen." Harry's tears were forgotten.

"Yes, Harry, I knew. This is why we had decided to protect you, by forbidding Miss Granger from seeing you this year, while at Hogwarts. The Ministry has since forbidden all visitors, or she would have been at your side."

"You forbade her." Harry's tone was ice, now. Hatred had started to build in him. "And this, this is the yearly apology from the great Albus Dumbledore, who knows all, and tells only when it's too late. Tell me, Professor, if she dies, who will they blame?"

Albus was still calm. "Harry, I understand your anger, but I don't think that..."

"You don't think," Harry shouted, "that I should say more? Tell me, Headmaster... how many of the people that died are because you wouldn't tell us everything? How many people would still be alive if you had trusted us, if you'd treated us like adults."

"Harry, you were not adults."

"In what way?" Harry asked, his bile rising. "When you stand alone against the darkness - alone, because the people who are supposed to save you can't or won't, alone, because they leave you that way, alone, because they don't trust you enough to just tell you the truth, alone, because your friends are sent off, or dead, isn't that enough to make you an adult?"

"Harry, you are distraught."

"And you," Harry stated, throwing off his blankets, "are trying to tell me how I feel, just as you've tried to control what I thought and what I knew. I don't know...I don't know how I feel about Ginny, but I know that Hermoine was my best friend, and you made me think she'd forgotten about me, so that you wouldn't have to tell me about the spell." His wand was on the nightstand - that was odd, he would have thought it would already have been snapped or confiscated. He snatched it, gripping it tightly.

"Harry, a broken heart is the only defense that will work. A truly broken heart. If you'd known about the spell, you might have known that Hermione was staying away from you because she loved you, and she would know the same for you - then, if you were lured together, you would both be killed."

"No, Albus, that's not the only defense. The only defense is truth. If we'd known, we could have faced it somehow. We would have been able to look out for the people trying to find out about us. We might have even staged something - gotten someone who looked like Hermione together with me, to spook them out. But at least, we would have been together." He didn't really think about what he was saying, he just knew that he wanted to hurt Albus the way he'd been hurt. He was starting to believe that the Headmaster couldn't really feel, that he couldn't care - the man didn't realize that people felt pain. He thought that somehow, if he could just make Albus hurt as much as he did, then the Headmaster would stop trying to hurt him.

"Harry, please, sit down." He did, almost by reflex, but reflected that he didn't seem to be getting to Albus. The Headmaster still looked implacable. His eyes even held a hint that looked like triumph. Was he trying to push Harry over the edge? Or was he just hoping that Harry would listen? "Harry, I understand that perhaps, you have issues that have been lying dormant for some time. I think there are things that are eating away at you that you need to get out. You can yell at me, Harry. I won't break."

The anger started to boil inside Harry. "Maybe I want you to break. Maybe I want to see that you can feel anything, anything at all - that you listen to me, instead of just ignoring what I say, and making your own plans anyway. Maybe I'd like to have believed that I had someone left who trusted me, who thought I could have handled the truth, or could have just given me a chance. Goodbye, Headmaster." He stepped to the window, and shouted, "_Accio_ Firebolt."

In seconds, his Firebolt was streaking towards him. He grabbed it, and, not reflecting on the picture that he cut, wearing only tartan boxers, mismatched red socks, and a hospital gown, he flew off into the sunny June morning.

~.~.~

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?" Snape said tentatively, as he entered the Headmaster's room, but there was no answer. The Headmaster sat in his chair, his wand dipped into his Pensieve. His face was red, with the look of someone who had wept until they had no more ability to weep.

Professor Snape wasn't sure whether or not to interrupt. While he was impatient by nature, he didn't consciously want to work against the Headmaster's well being.

He walked over to the Headmaster's side, and then noticed something out of place on his desk. There was an unrolled scroll, held open by a pair of paperweights, its color irregular and stained. The writing on it was uneven and hard to read, but Snape recognized the writing instantly. It was Harry Potter's hand. Snape clenched his fist, and then relaxed it. The only thing that Snape despised more than the undeserved adulation that Harry had received all his life, was the fact that he'd earned the hatred towards himself from Harry.

Dumbledore had given him a good talking-to on the night of the Valentine's Ball. He was the only one that Snape would take criticism from. Even so, Dumbledore's past suggestions that he was being too hard on Harry had gone over his head; he knew that Harry was just like his father, that Harry idolized James, in fact. It never occurred to him that Harry had no idea who his father was.

Professor Snape blamed himself for the chain of events that had led to Ginny being hurt. From interrogating Roland, he could see that there was very little that Harry could have done differently, other than choosing a different target or medium for the release of his anger.

The Headmaster showed no sign of waking, and Snape still didn't want to enter the Pensieve. He felt that to be the ultimate betrayal, violating someone's memories without their permission. Besides, there were more than a few memories in there that he would prefer to forget.

Instead, feeling only slightly guilty, he started to read the note. In Harry's unsteady hand, it said:

"Dear Professor Dumbledore,

"There was much that I had to say when we last spoke that I would take back, but there is also much that I would not. I've been trapped in an accursed cycle for the last eight years, a cycle of trust and betrayal, and I refuse to let that cycle harm anyone else that I care for.

"I can't see you changing your behavior any time soon, so I'll have to change mine. I suppose that would have happened anyway - in Azkaban, I don't think anyone would shield me from unpleasant truths, assuming I avoided being Kissed. But I don't feel like letting that happen.

"Now that Voldemort's gone, I guess Hogwarts doesn't need me anymore. Since you're content to let the Aurors have me, I suppose you won't be too upset to lose me entirely. I won't plan on seeing any of you again.

"Tell Hermione and Ginny that I love them both, that they were the best friends I could have had, and that I'll miss them both."

"Tell Professor Snape that he was right about me. I never knew that I had so much hate - so much violence inside of me. I didn't know that I could try to kill someone just for the accident of the choice of a Hat. He was right to call me arrogant. I've always thought that everything was my fault, that every death and painful thing that happened was something that was in my power to have avoided, instead of putting the blame where it belonged. With the people who let a scared child face evil alone, without even letting him know why.

"Good-bye.

"Harry Potter"

Professor Snape sat down and cradled his head between his hands, and waited for the Headmaster to come out of the Pensieve. Harry was lost to them now, and it was his fault.

~.~.~

Somewhere over water, off the coast of Scotland, Harry soared on his broom. He wasn't sure what he was going to do next. The Aurors would be after him, and he could hardly blame them. He didn't have much of a plan -- he'd try to borrow some clothes and sneak into Gringott's, although he didn't know how someone with a face as recognizable as his would manage it. Beyond that, he didn't know.

He wondered if he ought to find out if there was anything more to the plans that had sent Falco and Roland to try to kill him, or about their motivation, but that was more of what had gotten him into trouble. He just wanted to leave all of these problems to someone else. For now, he just hoped that he could lose himself until the Aurors gave up chasing him, and maybe find something resembling a normal life elsewhere.

FINIS (Continued in The Darkness of the Soul, currently in Beta)


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